


Ways To Make Her Smile

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson is great at emotional support, Daisy is flawless, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Make Daisy Happy, Romance, tiny Lincoln mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The little and big ways in which Coulson makes her smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways To Make Her Smile

**one**

Slowly, like a wave of warmth spreading through her body right down her toes, when she finds the note under the plate and realizes Coulson had thought about how she’d be hungry when she woke up in the middle of the night.

Her powers have never exhausted like this (sleeping a whole day, Daisy feels incredibly guilty) but then again she had never used her powers to this extent before.

The note explains the time and heat she has to set the microwave on for better results, to better keep all the flavors of the soup. Daisy rolls her eyes, fondly. Coulson is so fussy. It takes her a moment to realize he probably made the soup himself. His handwriting is kind of funny here - she’s seen it before and it’s usually messier but he seems to have taken his time writing this little note.

When she turns it in her hand she sees the rest of what he’s written.

No more cooking instructions.

“ _Remember not to overdo it. You saved us all. Now take care of yourself. P.C._ ”

That makes her smile again.

 

**two**

Secretly, but proudly, when she hears through the comms what he’s telling their CIA contact (now that they are trying to get some official bodies on their side), expounding on the many accomplishments of SHIELD’s Inhuman agents and allies.

He is talking about Inhumans in general, selling their case, but Daisy can feel it in his voice, Coulson is talking _about her_. She’s glad she’s alone on comms right now, because the stupid self-satisfied grin on her face right now would be hard to explain.

“They don’t just have exceptional abilities,” Coulson goes on. “They’re exceptional _as people_.”

Daisy thinks about how Lincoln never said anything that nice about her, and she knows that even if he had it wouldn’t have meant as much as when Coulson does it.

Her smile disappears when she realizes this.

 

**three**

With delight, because Coulson is looking so funny right now.

Not funny, exactly. More like out of place. No, not that. He looks very comfortable, that’s the thing. Coulson doesn’t usually look this comfortable. He looks out of place but enjoying it. Seeing him enjoying himself makes Daisy happy, and she’s enjoying herself too, surprisingly.

He makes a growly, obscene sound of appreciation towards the food, and that makes Daisy smile even more.

“Told you,” she said. “Best ribs in the neighborhood.”

“Sorry I ever doubted you,” Coulson teases.

“This was a good idea, you know? So thank you.”

“You looked like you needed a breather,” he says. That’s very much like Coulson, she decides, because she hasn’t been saying anything and she hasn’t acted any differently lately, but he noticed.

“And thanks for letting me pick the spot,” she tells him.

“I imagined you haven’t been to your old neighborhood in a while.”

She looks around. There weren’t food trucks when she lived here, that’s for sure. The place has gotten a bit hipster. And there a lot more gay bars now, which Daisy considers an improvement.

“It’s been years,” she replies. She left when she was nineteen, right before meeting Miles on the road. “I’ve heard the ninja population has picked up since I’ve left.”

“Maybe you’ll get to kick some of their asses while we’re here.”

Daisy shakes her head.

“Not tonight. I’m on vacation tonight. I’m having dinner with a friend.”

Coulson beams at the word, like it’s some great boon bestowed upon him or something.

“Here,” she says, pressing a napkin to the corner of his mouth, surprising him with the intimate gesture. “You’ve got sauce on you.”

Coulson’s awkward reaction makes her grin.

 

**four**

Out of pleasure, when he slides his hands under her bathrobe, pressing his body against hers, fitting perfectly against her back.

When he kisses her neck it’s still tentative, despite last night, it’s still a fragile thing, like their first kiss mere hours earlier - under the Manhattan skyline and tasting of bbq sauce. His hand, cold with morning, tickle the skin of her stomach, making her chuckle as she grabs the rim of the sink to keep balance against Coulson’s embrace, to keep her balance through her own excitement about all this newness, this tenderness.

She looks at herself in the mirror, watches herself smiling as Coulson kisses the curve of her shoulder. For a moment she almost doesn’t recognize her own image. Hello there, stranger.

The Daisy in the mirror looks _happy_.

The Daisy outside the mirror doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

**five**

Every freaking day.

She doesn’t know if he does it without thinking or if it’s a personal mission of his, if Coulson wakes up every day thinking “I’m going to make sure Daisy smiles at least once today”. It’s probably a combination of both. He makes her smile for a variety of reasons but she knows there’s at least one thing every day he does with the goal of making her a little happier than she was before he did it.

Like, any given week Daisy can divide the days into ways in which Coulson has caused her to smile, consciously or otherwise.

Monday: it never fails to make her smile, he does it without thinking at this point, when he touches the small of her back every morning while they have coffee and she goes over the mission plans for the day - like some kind of ritual of reconnection, even though they spent the whole night together, or like he’s recharging his batteries (by touching her? okay, Daisy, chillax, you’re not that amazing), she doesn’t know, she knows knows that he does it every morning and every morning it gets to her.

Tuesday: it’s a bad mission, a _bad day_ , and Coulson takes it badly, in a way that makes Daisy appreciate how much he cares, and how much they are alike, in a way that makes her twist her fingers into his elbow, pull him up from the ground and give him a cocky we’ll-get-them-next-time smile, hoping neither of them ever stops taking defeats so hard.

Wednesday: by casually - and very politically - telling her he loves her when she manages to hack the network of a company selling alien tech in the black market.

Thursday: he still writes her notes, sometimes. He still tries very hard to write them in his best handwriting. They always get the same reaction as the first time.

Friday: it’s not something he does for her, not really, but he always fall prey to Mack and Simmons challenging to grab a controller; Simmons has been playing more and more video games lately (to vent frustration, Daisy guesses, and it was about time Jemma found her thing) and under Mack’s tutelage she’s become pretty deathly, and both of them have made a habit of destroying Coulson when the poor guy agrees to play with them; Daisy watches from the kitchen, can tell by the back of Coulson’s neck that he’s suffering horrible humiliation again, the hopeless doofus, and something about seeing the three of them together on the couch, Coulson, Jemma and Mack, just overwhelms her, makes her think _family_ and immediately panic that someone is going to snatch it away from her before she remembers these people would never let that happen.

Saturday: in bed he always makes her feel safe, like she can’t make mistakes, in a way that she can feel every muscle of self-loathing and fear inside her relax until Daisy can barely notice them anymore. It doesn’t take much for it to work, because he gets so goofy, and he suddenly decides he wants to spend some alone time with her feet to the point where she has to ask “Are you okay down there?”, “I think I’m developing a new fetish,” Coulson comments, pressing his thumb against the heel of her foot in a way that goes from tickling to really interesting. “The whole Inhuman thing wasn’t enough?” she teases him, there’s a lot of teasing in bed and that confuses Daisy and delights her. “But Inhuman _toes_...” Coulson protests, pressing his lips against them. 

Sunday: he wonders out loud why they can’t have a normal Sunday - “I don’t think supervillains respect union rules,” Daisy tells him, brushing the ashes from her field suit - and later she tells him about how she used to spend Sundays when she was a kid at St Agnes, how they were of all the days of the week the most miserable there, and it’s not a nice memory exactly but it’s the way Coulson listens to her stories, every time.

It’s Monday again and Daisy is wondering in which ways Coulson is going to make her smile today when he shows up, tablet in hand.

“Can you help me with the rooster?” he asks. “Elena wanted to be on Immediate Response and I have to restructure everything now. Do you-?” he stops. “Why are you smiling?”

She shakes her head. 

“It’s nothing,” she tells him.

A lot of very important nothings every day.


End file.
